The Heart Brings You Back
by CTMfan-13
Summary: 2013 Christmas special
"And I am not his mother."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. She may not have given birth to Timothy, but she loved him as if she had. That poor, sick, scared little boy lying in that bed was her son in her heart. And as of tomorrow, he would be hers legally.

Well, he would have been.

Even if his diagnosis wasn't polio as she feared it would be, there was no way that she and Patrick would be getting married tomorrow. Not without their little boy standing next to them as they took the giant leap of becoming a family.

She leaned towards Timothy's bed, trying to keep a smile on her face to reassure him.

"I'll be a footstep away, that's all."

And then she heard it. A noise she'd heard a million times as a nurse, but hearing it come out of her son, her heart plummeted to her stomach.

"He can't clear his throat!"

"You _must_ leave!"

As the matron forcibly pushed her out of the curtained area, Shelagh tried to control her tears, her voice wavering.

"Please! I can't leave him alone. I can't reach his father, my fiancé, he's a doctor. He's out on a call, he...I can't leave him alone!"

"Be that as it may..". The matron wouldn't budge. "There are rules here, Miss. Fiance or not, you are not immediate family." They reached the doors to the ward and Shelagh stepped out. "You'll have to wait here." she said curtly, turning back to the ward and off into the curtained area where Timothy lay.

Shelagh's heart sank, her tears no longer able to be held back. She watched through the small window as a large machine was wheeled over and her son placed inside.

An iron lung. _Dear Lord, please_. She prayed silently as she watched. _Please, not Timothy._

She didn't know how long she'd been standing there, hours maybe. From her right, she heard a pounding on the floor as someone ran down the hallway, shoes screeching to a stop in front of the ward.

"Shelagh"

Patrick. She turned to him, holding out her hand, which he grasped immediately.

"I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!"

And the next moment, he was inside. She was alone again, watching the two boys she loved from a window in the London. On the outside again. Almost the same way she'd been watching them when she still wore a habit and answered to the name Sister Bernadette.

She watched them for a moment, her heart shattering as she watched the love of her life stroke his son's hair and burst into tears.

Watching them a few moments more, she turned and walked out of the ward. When she came back to her senses, she was outside the London walking down the streets headed back towards Poplar. She wasn't conscious of where she was going, but her feet obviously were. The air was bitter cold, and the chill stung in her chest, but she carried on. Suddenly, she knew where she was going, and her feet began to move faster.

The door opened easily, swinging open with little effort on her part. She hadn't been inside the Leopold Institute in years, not since the last time they'd had to use it for the antenatal clinic, after a burst pipe in the parish hall had left it unusable.

She realized as she started walking inside that she didn't know where to go. She certainly didn't want to make a scene by running into the hall where everyone was gathered. If she could just find one of the Sisters, she thought. She'd told Patrick not even three days ago how awkward she felt around them, but now, when she needed comfort, they were her first thought.

But what would people think? That was the thought that stopped her halfway up the stairs.

She made to turn back, to go back to the London and continue her vigil from outside the door. Then she heard another familiar sound, a sound that filled her with peace. A peace she hadn't felt for weeks on end.

Singing.

Had she really been at the London for so long that it was already time for Compline?

She closed her eyes and let the words wash over her. Shoulders relaxing, troubles melting to the background, she knew where to go. Taking a deep breath, she followed the sound of her sisters down the hallway to a side room.

There they were. Her family. Sister Evangelina and Sister Monica Joan on either side of the makeshift altar with Sister Julienne leading the psalm in the middle.

Psalm 31. _How appropriate_ , she thought to herself.

 _In thee O Lord do I put my trust_

 _Let me never be ashamed_

 _Deliver me in the righteousness_

 _Bow down your ear to me_

 _Deliver me speedily_

 _Be thou to me a strong rock_

 _For an house of defense to save me_

 _For thou art my rock and my fortress_

She began to walk down the stairs towards them, her body moving of its own accord. She waited for the verse to end before she allowed her voice to join theirs, hoping against hope that they wouldn't turn her away.

 _Therefore for thy namesake lead me and guide me_

Without missing a beat, both Sister Julienne and Sister Monica Joan moved to make room for her to join them. She took up her place between them, continuing in her song of praise.

 _Pull me out of the net that they have laid privily for me_

 _For thou art my strength_

Her hands were at her sides, laying limply next to her body as she didn't have a hymnal to hold. Not that she needed one, she knew every psalm by heart after ten years of leading her sisters in song. As she stood, she felt Sister Julienne's arm brushing against her coat, and then clasping her hand within her own. She held on tightly, as if clinging onto her for dear life.

 _Make thy face to shine upon me_

 _In my hour of need_

 _That's what this is_. Shelagh realized to herself. Her hour of need. And with Sister Julienne's hand held tightly in her own, she knew she was safe without a doubt.

She'd come home.


End file.
